


Don't You Realize I'll Protect You

by Assassins_Wolves



Series: Hold Me Tight and Don't Let Go [2]
Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Badass Arya, Denial of Feelings, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Mutual Pining, Protective Arya Stark, Protective Gendry, Sick Gendry, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-24
Updated: 2019-05-19
Packaged: 2019-11-29 04:55:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18218492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Assassins_Wolves/pseuds/Assassins_Wolves
Summary: Gendry gets one bad break after another when his master sells him to the Night's Watch. But along the way to the Wall, he meets a young girl named Arya disguised as a boy. Somehow, they manage to stick together as everything crumbles around them. Arya turns out to be more dangerous than he thought possible for someone that size. Gendry finds himself growing more and more attached to Arya, but she's a Lady and he's just a lowborn with no powers to speak of. Or so he thinks.





	1. Chapter One

Gendry should have known that one day his master would get sick of him. He should have know and he curses at himself for letting himself get comfortable. He was a good blacksmith, strong and hard working. He was good enough to keep up with the other boys, ones that could heat metal with their bare hands or warp the iron with just a touch. Gendry has no such power, only the swing of his arm and the hammer in his hand. He made do. But then the Hands of the King came sniffing around and Master Mott got anxious. So he sold Gendry to the Wall. 

Gendry’s heard plenty of stories about the wall, the deadly cold. That’s the first thing he considered. The forge was always burning with heat and all Gendry was wearing when he was sold was a sleeveless leather jerkin. He’ll freeze to death long before they reach the Wall. He can’t even find it in himself to feel dread or fear. He’s numb, inside and out. He tried so hard, worked his heart out only to be sold just like that. He’s done. He’s done trying and he’s done caring.

“Give it here midget!” 

“Look at him! You better give Hot Pie the sword!” 

Gendry looks up from his work lashing the supplies to the wagon to observe the scene playing out in front of him. Two of boys have knocked a smaller one to the ground. One leans over him, sneering while the fat one tells him about a boy he’s killed. 

Gendry raises an eyebrow, but says nothing. He’s willing to bet that the fat boy hasn’t ever hurt a thing in his life, except someone’s pantry. He’s just scared and lashing out at an easy target. The small gangly boy with scared eyes and a thin sword. Gendry goes back to bundling supplies, keeping an eye on the smaller boy.

“You better give me that sword!” Hot Pie shouts, lunging forward.

The boy brandishes it at him in an instant, pulling himself up and forcing Hot Pie backwards. 

“Do you want it? I’ll give it to you. I’ve already killed one fat boy. I bet you never killed anyone. I bet you’re a liar. But I’m not. I’m good at killing fat boys.” He bares his teeth, pulling Hot Pie closer. “I like killing fat boys.” 

The vicious fearful look in his eyes lights a spark in Gendry, makes him feel something for the first time in weeks. He turns and lets Hot Pie run into his shoulder, broadened by years of hard work. Hot Pie whirls around, eyes wide as he assesses the much more dangerous threat.

“You like picking on the little ones do ya? You know I’ve been hammering an anvil this last ten years. When I hit that steel it sings. You gonna sing when I hit you?”

Hot Pie shakes his head, retreating backward. Gendry takes a few more steps until he’s standing next to the small boy with his thin sword. Hot Pie turns tail and flees, together with the other boy. Gendry turns to the small boy and lifts his thin sword in his hand, admiring the quality of the thing.

“This is castle forged steel,” he says, impressed despite himself. “Where’d ya steal it?”

“It was a gift,” the small boy retorts, his voice entirely too high. He yanks the sword back, but doesn’t cut Gendry’s hand as he does so. 

Gendry takes a good look at him for the first time. That unevenly cut hair, soft face scrunched in anger, frilled undershirt covered in stains, and high-quality blade. If Gendry didn’t know any better, he’d say this small, angry boy was a girl. He can’t be sure though, so he says nothing. 

“It don’t matter now anyways,” he says instead. “Where we’re goin’ they don’t care what you done.”

There’s more work to be done before the wagon is ready to set out. Gendry goes back to loading supplies, turning his back on the small figure as he works. They doesn’t seem to have any particular job to do, and hovers uncertainly behind Gendry. 

“Arri!” Sir Yoren calls out to the boy, Arri, gesturing him over. Gendry puts it out of his mind, letting himself get lost in the meaningless physical work as he lifts the heavy supplies and puts them in the wagon. It isn’t until the caravan begins to move that he spots Arri again, barely managing not to get trampled by a team of horses. Gods have mercy, Gendry doubts that the tiny child will survive long enough to even reach the wall. 

If Gendry wasn’t certain earlier, he is when the caravan stops to take a break in the middle of the day. Arri disappears deep into the brush to take a leak instead of ducking behind a tree like the rest of them. There’s no doubt in his mind. Arri is a girl. He can’t even begin to understand the implications of this discover. Why on earth would a girl be traveling to the Wall? Gendry guesses it down’t matter one way or the other, that’s where they’ll all end up in the end.

They make good time for the first day, Sir Yoren seems pleased with their progress. The light is just starting to fade when they finally stop. The boys gather around to receive rations, dispersing again to eat them. Gendry wolfs his meager portion down far too quickly. He knows better than to ask for seconds.

He’s laying down for the night when he sees her again, Arri. Slightly uncertain as she looks around at all the boys laying out their cots for the night. Her lip curls as her eyes dance over Hot Pie and Lommy, dancing away quickly to linger over the men all gathered around the fire. But none of the boys are laying out near them, and she worries her lip as she contemplates it. 

Gendry can feel her gaze turn to him as he turns away and busies himself with laying out his blanket. Her footsteps are soft as she pads across the grass next to him. She settles down a reasonable distance away, just far enough to claim she wasn’t intending on sleeping beside him. But he protected her earlier, and she’s deemed him safe. 

Gendry wraps his fingers around his bull’s helm, running them down the elegant curves. He thinks of his warm forge, a home for the past ten years, ripped away. He glances over to see that Arri’s turned her back to him, shivering slightly as she curls around herself. Gendry sighs to himself as he sits up and pulls off the scratchy blanket covering him. Mentally cursing himself for caring, he balls it up. 

“Here,” he says gruffly, tossing it towards Arri. She rolls over as it hits her in the stomach. Unrolling, she unwraps it and her face lights up as she realizes what it is. She gives him a cautious, suspicious look as she wraps it around her thin shoulders, mumbling a thanks. 

Gendry grunts and rolls over in reply, trying to conserve his body heat. He’s an idiot, giving away his blanket like that. Now he’s got nothing to keep him warm against the cold and it’s only going to get worse the farther north they go. His compassion will be the death of him. But he can’t help but care about Arri despite himself.


	2. Chapter 2

As they march further North, the weather begins to get colder. They hand out extra clothes, much to Gendry’s relief. He gets a thick woolen shirt that he quickly puts on underneath his leather jerkin. Arri gets a leather jacket that’s too big for her and a thick belt to tie it down with. 

Gendry doesn’t see Arri much. She’s taken to marching with Yoren at the front of the caravan, talking with him as they walk. Gendry’s got his own problems to deal with. Now that the boys have begun to settle into a routine, they’ve started fighting among themselves, trying to establish a hierarchy. Gendry doesn’t doubt that’s why Arri has taken a sudden interest in Yoren.

After his run in with Lommy and Hot Pie, the younger boys leave him alone. There are only a few boys close to Gendry’s own age and size, some older than him. One of these older boys starts marching next to Gendry and “accidentally” jostling him with his shoulder from time to time. Gendry ignores it. He’s dealt with this before, someone who thinks because they’re bigger and meaner they can push him around. 

Gendry has almost forgotten about it when they stop and he goes to start setting up camp. He’s turning around from unhitching a team of horses when he looks up just in time to see the boy flying at him. Gendry has a half second to flinch before he collides into him. 

His fist hits Gendry squarely in the cheekbone, sending Gendry staggering backwards. He gains his equilibrium before the boy can attack again, and lunges forward. They scramble for a moment, ducking and dodging each other’s sloppy attacks. Gendry catches a blow to the ribs and another to his ear before he finally gets a handful of the other boys coat. 

Gendry braces his legs, turns and flips the boy over his shoulder, slamming him into the ground as hard as he can. The boy gasps for the air that’s been knocked from his lungs, clutching his chest as he scrambles upright. Gendry waits with his fists raised in front of his face, ready to block again. 

The boy moves forward, only to be pulled short by Yoren’s hand on the back of his neck. “None o’ that!” He barks, flinging the boy away and pointing a stern finger at him. “You, start digging the latrine. And you,” he turns on Gendry with a thunderous expression, “go gather firewood.” 

Gendry ducks his head in reply, more than happy to slip into the woods. With every step away from camp, it gets quieter and quieter. Soon the only sound is bird song. Gendry tilts his face back and appreciates the warmth of the sun on his face. It's an unusually warm day, and Gendry can't help but bask in the more familiar weather. He sighs and sits down heavily on a nearby log, prodding at his sore cheekbone. It'll probably bruise. 

He doesn't know how long he sits there, letting his mind wander. They'll be at the Wall within the month. There will be fighting there, real fighting. Gendry tries to practice with the swords he makes, but he's never been in a sword fight before. He could be dead by this time next month. Dead and buried beneath feet of snow, no one to remember him. 

Gendry thinks of his mother, the few memories he has of her. He hadn't thought about her recently until Hand Stark questioned him, but every since she's been on her mind. He remembers the gentle touch of her hand, her beautiful face and golden hair. He doesn't miss her anymore, she's been gone so long he barely remembers what it felt like when she was there. He misses the idea of her. A mum. A family. It'd be nice to have someone cry over him once he's gone. 

A cloud rolls over the sun and Gendry abruptly realizes what he's doing. That's quite enough of that. It’s time to get back to work. Yoren will be wondering where he went. Gendry pushes himself off the log and starts gathering wood. It’s not long before he has a sizable pile of dry wood in his arms and is ready to return to camp. 

When he walks back into camp from getting firewood, the first person he sees is Arri. Tiny Arri, currently beating at the three criminals in the prison wagon with a stick. Gendry can’t help but sigh. Of course she would. The criminals snarl and reach for her through the bars with clawed hands, spewing obscenities. Arya snarls back at them, not cowed in the least.

“Yoren said none of us were to go near those three,” he reminds her as he walks between her and the wagon, trying to physically force her to back away.

She turns and follows him, her stick still clutched tightly in her fist. “They don’t scare me.” She juts her chin out boldly.

“Then you’re stupid,” Gendry replies flatly. “They scare me.” 

Gendry’s strong, but he knows those men are quick and what’s more they know how to fight. One of them has a unnatural stillness to him, shadows almost seem to move under his skin. Gendry doesn’t even want to know what he is.

He’s walking toward the center of camp when the arrival of two men on horseback catches his attention. They’re Goldcloaks, the pair of them, armed with good-quality swords and brand new armor that lacks a single dent or scratch. Though he knows its not important, Gendry can’t help wondering who made it. Not any of his masters boys, it’s much fancier than anything they were commissioned to do. Maybe the blacksmith across the street, that looks like his touch on the pauldrons.

“What are Goldcloaks doing so far from King’s Landing?” Arri quavers. 

The Goldcloaks glare at the boys as they ride closer. Most of them are staring and quickly look away. Gendry follows suit, trying to avoid their attention. He busies himself throwing the firewood to the ground. When he looks up again, Arri is crouching behind the bridge.

“What are you doing?” Gendry asks. 

“They’re looking for me.” Her eyes are wide behind her fringe of hair, a look of genuine terror on her face.

Gendry frowns in disbelief, but doesn’t say anything. They both turn to watch Yoren swagger up to the Goldcloaks. Gendry would be that bold too if he had a healing ability. One of the boys said that Yoren once survived being gutted, just stuffed his organs back in and kept on going. By the next day, he was back to normal.

“I have a royal warrant for one of these gutter rats you’re transporting,” one of the Goldcloaks announces loudly. 

Gendry turns to look at Arri skeptically. Why would the Goldcloaks want with a little thing like her? She swallows nervously, and curls even tighter into herself as though she can keep from being seen entirely if she’s small enough.

“These gutter rats belong to the Nights Watch now,” Yoren replies dismissively. “That puts ‘em beyond the reach of Kings and Queens.”

That’s the whole point of the Watch. Gendry doesn’t doubt that the majority of the boys around him are criminals. Many would rather take the black than the punishment that’s waiting for them down South. Gendry bets that the three men locked away all had their heads destined for the executioners block at one point. He finds it hard to believe little Arri committed a crime worse than them. She did say she’d killed a boy.

The Goldcloak begins to draw his sword, but in a flash Yoren has his dagger against his thigh. He leans in close and whispers to the Goldcloak, no doubt threatening him. The larger boys slowly get to their feet, surrounding the riders. Whatever Yoren says must work, because the Goldcloaks drop their swords.

They're quickly picked up by some of the older boys. Good swords are always needed at the Wall. Arri won’t be the only one armed after this. As the Goldcloaks turn to leave, one of them stands in his saddle and turns to face the boys.

“We’re looking for a boy named Gendry,” he announces. “He carries a bull’s head helmet. Anyone turning him over will earn a king’s reward. We’ll be back, with more men.” 

Gendry’s heart skips over the next beat. But he hasn't done anything. He hasn’t committed any crime other than the crime of existing. The only reason he's here is because his master sold him. Why—why would they want him? 

Gendry slowly stands and Arya climbs up out of her hiding place to stand beside him and watch the riders as they disappear from view. Yoren turns to look at Gendry, as do a fair number of the boys. Gendry feels uncomfortably exposed under their view. He doesn't understand why, but he's just been made a target for every single boy around him. The one who attacked him early smirks, a black eye forming already on his face. Gendry's stomach turns uncomfortably. What on earth has he gotten into?


	3. Chapter 3

Everyone makes a wide berth around Gendry as he makes a path towards the river. Gendry clenches the bucket a little tighter in his hand, but says nothing. As he gets closer, Gendry can see Arya crouches along some rocks, a forgotten pan in her hand as she argues with Hot Pie and Lommy. Gendry seems to be coming up on the tail end of the conversation.

“So if they got armor on, it’s a battle,” Hot Pie insists defensively as Gendry walks up.

"No it isn't," Lommy replies, rolling his eyes. 

"What would a dyer's apprentice know about battles?" Hot Pie sneers.

“Gendry’s an armor’s apprentice," Arya says, not looking up from scrubbing a pan. "Ask Gendry what makes a fight a battle, Hot Pie.” 

Hot Pie is slow to look at Gendry, as though he might catch something just by being near Gendry. Gendry waits impatiently. He would walk away, but this is the first time someone has directly talked to him since the incident. 

“It’s-uh when they’ve got armor on,” Hot Pie explains lamely. 

“And who told you that?” 

“A knight?” Hot Pie sounds like he’s asking rather than telling.

“How d’you know he was a knight?” Gendry challenges. 

“Well cause he—got armor on.”

“You don’t have to be a knight to buy armor. Any idiot can buy armor,” Gendry says, his voice dripping with disdain. Arya smirks as she scrubs at the pan.

“How do you know?” Hot Pie questions. 

“Cause I sold armor!” Gendry shakes his head and begins to fill his bucket. Hot Pie and Lommy find somewhere else to be. Funny how that keeps happening whenever Gendry walks up. 

Arri drops her pans and scurries after Gendry as he turns and walks away. Gendry swears, she’s like a lost little puppy who’s found someone to follow. He doesn’t turn around, maybe if he ignores her she’ll go away.

“What do the Goldcloaks want with you?” Arri fires off what is no doubt the first of many questions at Gendry’s back as she follows him.

“No idea.” Gendry doesn’t want to think about it.

“You’re a liar,” she states matter-of-factly. 

“You shouldn’t insult people bigger than you,” Gendry advises. If she carries on like this, someone isn’t going to be as patient with her as he is and they’re going to belt her in the mouth. 

“Then I wouldn’t get to insult anyone,” Arri protests. Gendry can’t help but smile at the fact that she didn’t even try to defend her height. She's stubborn as a mule, still following him and waiting for an answer to her question. Gendry wants an answer to that question as well. Not that he's going to get one.

“I don’t care what any of them want. No good’s ever come of their questions.” Certainly not for Gendry, and not for those who spoke with him either.

“Who’s asked questions before?” Arri asks. 

“How can someone so small be such a huge pain in my ass,” Gendry wonders aloud as he dumps his bucket of water into the cauldron. 

“Who asked questions?” Arri demands again, leaning into his space. 

Gendry sighs, but decides it will be easier just to tell her. “Hand of the King. Hands of the King. Lord Aryn came first a few weeks before he died and then Lord Stark came a few weeks before he died.” 

“Lord Stark,” Arri echoes quietly.

“See, asking me questions is bad luck,” Gendry informs her. He turns to go fill the bucket again. Arri grabs the second bucket and follows after him. “You’ll probably be dead soon.” He doesn’t know why the thought of that bothers him. He doesn’t even really know her.

“What did they ask about?” Arri is relentless.

“My mum.” 

“Whose your mum?” 

Gendry leans down to fill the bucket from the stream. “She’s just my mum.” The thought of her makes Gendry’s chest constrict a little. “Worked in a tavern, died when I was little.” 

He was younger than Arri, probably six or seven and scared to death. His mum was always so pretty, golden hair and kind smiles. She was the only person in his life, his whole world. And then he had to watch her die coughing up her own blood. They couldn't afford a maester. 

“And who was your father?” 

“Could be one of those gold-cloaked bastards for all I know.” Gendry straightens and sets the bucket down. Arri hands him the second bucket to fill.

“What about you anyway? You thought they were after you, why?” Gendry fires back and he bends down to fill the bucket. “Did you kill someone or is it just because you’re a girl?” He wouldn’t necessarily doubt that she’s killed someone. He saw the look in her eye when she threatened Hot Pie. She meant every word.

“I’m not a girl!” Arri’s voice is full of panic and her eyes are wide. 

Gendry snorts, picking up the buckets and turning to walk back to the cauldron. “Yes you are. You think I’m as stupid as the rest of them?” He glances over his shoulder at her, and she glares at him.

“Stupider! The Knight’s Watch doesn’t take girls. Everyone knows that,” Arri snarls at him.

“Yeah, that’s true.” Gendry’s been wondering about that himself. “You’re still a girl.” He sets the buckets down.

“I am not!” She protests shrilly. 

“Oh yeah?” Gendry whirls on her. “Pull your cock out and take a piss then.” 

She takes a step backwards, looking scared of him for the first time. For some reason, that makes Gendry’s stomach twist. “I don’t need to take a piss,” she says quietly. 

Gendry just stares her down, looks into her eyes. What on earth is a vicious little thing like her doing out here? It's none of his business, Gendry decides. Arri will tell him if he trusts him. She might never speak to him again, considering how badly he appears to have scared her. He turns back to filling the tub and Arri takes a step closer.

“Lommy and Hot Pie can’t know,” she says quietly. “No one can know.” 

“They won’t," Gendry promises. "Not from me.” He means it too. He can't imagine what would happen if the boys knew, especially the older ones, already convicted rapers and murders. No wonder Arri always sticks so close to Yoren. Gendry ought to keep a closer eye on her going forward.

“My name’s not Arri. It’s Arya,” she confesses quietly. “Of House Stark.” Gendry freezes. “Yoren is taking me home to Winterfell.”

Well that explains what on earth she's doing with the Night's Watch. She's going North, going home. Even a street rat like Gendry knows that the Starks of the North are not to be taken lightly. He doesn't know much about them though, he only met Lord Stark once. He was a tall man, but Gendry never really looked at his face, he doesn't know if Arya resembles him or not.

“Who was your father, the Hand, the traitor?” She could be a lesser Stark, a distant relative. 

“He was never a traitor. Joffrey is a liar!” Arri—Arya seethes. It’s not a direct answer, but her protective reaction is close enough. Ned Stark is her father. Gods above.

“So you’re a highborn then—you’re a Lady,” Gendry realizes. 

He’s struggling with this sudden information. Arya is so far removed from his experience with Ladies, running around with that shaggy hair, dressed like a boy, covered in mud and sweat. All the Ladies he's ever seen were wrapped in silk and gold, without a fleck of dirt or a single hair out of place. He always assumed that the most active thing a Lady did was needlework or maybe drinking tea or something equally boring.

“No! Well I mean yes, my mother was a Lady," Arya admits.

“But you’re a Lord’s daughter and you lived in a castle and—” The way Gendry has spoken and acted around Arri suddenly comes rushing back. He's been horribly crass and entirely inappropriate. She could have him whipped. “Look all that about cocks I should never have said that. And I’ve been pissing in front of you and everything. I—I should be called you M’Lady.” 

“Do not call me My Lady!” Arya glares at him. Something loosens a little in Gendry's chest at that.

“As M’Lady commands,” Gendry teases, pretending to bow. 

Arya shoves him, sending him staggering backward. She’s surprisingly strong for her size.

“Well that was unladylike!” 

Arya shoves him again, and this time she sends him to the ground. 

“Oof.” Gendry grins up at her and Arya frowns, tightening her hands into little fists. The tiny little highborn girl shoved him to the ground. Gendry laughs as he watches Arya march away angrily. She's certainly not like any of the Ladies Gendry's ever seen before. Perhaps she won't turn out to be too snobbish to be friends with him after all.


End file.
